Tea with the Professor
by jezabella Hale
Summary: Esme was content with her life, until she had afternoon tea with her professor. Rated M for Lemons!
1. The Missive

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Twilight related.**

Summary: Esme's was content with her life, until she had afternoon tea with her professor. Rated M for Lemons!

**Tea with the Professor**

Prologue: The Missive

His scent still lingered on the missive resting upon her desk. Esme must have read the letter at least a few dozen times. She had only received it three days ago and yet the parchment looked worn and aged from the obsessive amount of times she folded and unfolded it.

By the third time she read it, every word, period and comma were already engraved into her memory, but she continued to open it just to see the lean elegant cursive spread across the paper.

His writing was just so inexplicably him, she recalled one of Shakespeare's renowned quotes about the eyes being the windows to the soul, and couldn't help but to feel that she was staring into his very soul, his writing being the window that bared him so deliciously for her viewing.

And this confused her

These feelings that she were having seemed to feel a little more personal than they should have, after all, he was only her professor.

She should be in the mist of learning from him the correct ways of nursing the wounded soldiers from the war, not nourishing a childish school girl's crush on him.

She was supposed to be engaged to Charles Evans, they planned on having a summer wedding. Her parents supported the union, in their eyes she couldn't have chosen a more suitable gentleman to wed. He was every girl's dream; he was handsome, rich and had good upbringing.

Well, if it wasn't for him being overseas defending their country, Esme was fairly sure that they would have already been married, if certain devices were left to her mother.

He loved her and though Esme's feelings hadn't quite progressed into anything more than a strong sort of fondness, she knew that given time and nourishment the feelings that she did have for Charles would grow into something more suitable of a wife.

So that made Professor Cullen off limits to her

And that's what she kept telling herself whenever she was in his presence.

The only thing wrong was Carlisle Cullen's very essence demanded her attention.

And as demanded she couldn't help but heed his stipulations.

It was really rather silly, the way her body hummed when he was near or the slight prickle she would get on the back of her neck whenever he got too close.

He would lean over her, every once in a while to instruct her the correct ways of bandaging whenever she was bandaging wrong, his hot moist breath would tickle her ear, and she would suppress the violent shudder that threatened to disturb her body.

He then would reach out to correct her fingers around the thin scrap of fabric, and she would feel his warm rough hands slightly gliding over hers, sending her heart racing erratically.

And then the scent of his cologne would waft towards her, ridding the crisp spring breeze, it was always so strong and spicy, it fuddled her nerves and Esme found herself leaning that much closer to his already near warm body.

It was really rather absurd of him to expect her to pay any veneer of concentration during his lectures, after all, the man couldn't be that naïve to not know the effect he had on the female populace on campus.

And the letter he had written her, meant to invite her to a friendly tea between mentor and pupil, seemed so innocent and not at all like the way her aberrant mind had processed the information as a sensual date between lovers and not a meeting to discuss her failings in his class as of late, which is what the letter was initially meant to portray.

Esme was confused and feeling passions she was once unacquainted with. The rapid beat of her heart, the short quickening gasp of breath and the delicious smarting feeling southbound that was once foreign to her had become a sort of familiar to her, an expected and long anticipated friend.

Though the logical side of her that listened to the strong upbringing bestowed upon her by her family's virtues, cried out to her, warned her to stay as far away as she could get from the professor, another part of her, the unfounded part fed by the curiosity of these new and miraculous sensations she was experiencing, told her to press on, egging her on and into uncharted territories.

Esme was certainly afflicted, but by such an outlandish predicament. It was laughable really, to be so conflicted over a quandary rooted by presumptions and impudence brought on by nothing short of whimsy desires and immature mendacity.

Professor Cullen might not have been a married man, but certainly there had to at least be an intelligent beauty out there that had already accomplished his favour. Surely Professor Cullen couldn't be interested in someone as plain and ordinary as her when he could have any woman he so desired.

He was very handsome after all. He wore his shock of blond hair casually, it looked as if he hadn't even tried to style it, instead chose to let the wind carry it every which way, it was roguish and it held a certain promise of a dangerous personality. His steel grey eyes were entrancing and always seemed to see right through her.

There were many redeeming characteristics of Professor Cullen that Esme was sure she could list a mile long, which pushed her into an even more dangerous dilemma.

Esme sighed, reaching over his missive for a felt tip and a bit of parchment. Her reply would lack the elegance and the neat calligraphy his invitation was comprised of, but the thought she put behind her reply wouldn't.

Unfortunately, she would have to decline his innocent requests. After all, Esme knew her limits and sitting in a secluded room with a man that procured such thoughts from her would exceed her restrictions.

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I decided to write a short love story about Esme and Carlisle. When I say short I mean short, like six chapters max. Let me know what you think!


	2. A Drowning Man

**Tea with the Professor**

**Chapter One: A Drowning Man**

There was peace until there was her.

Carlisle watched her as she entered, the ends of her skirt twisting and flittering against the soft pale skin of her legs. With her she brought the powerful energy of the raging storm from outdoors.

He was suffocating, and felt the closing of the walls around him. Surely he would die from humiliation at his obvious display of affection towards her, affection that was unreturned, as evident in her dismissal of his invitation to tea.

Carlisle liked to think of himself a handsome man, retaining the typical characteristics to make one charming: intelligent, witty, groomed and with background- although his pedigree wasn't as striking as some of the other men living within the surrounding vicinity, he liked to think he could qualify as a match for the young Miss Platt.

Apparently his assumptions were without basis, and completely out of line. He, at least now, knew that her reactions to his prior advances had been misread.

That, however, didn't change the way his heart skipped whenever he thought of her. His longing for her was becoming his downfall, she hunted him at night. Images of her soft slender hands under his as a thin piece of cloth draped through her fingers and into his flashed through his mind.

Her smile was innocent but knowing, gentle and sweet. Her beautiful wise eyes entranced him and held a hint of the promise he so longed for.

Just then, she threw her head back and laughed at something her friend might have said. A possessive fury washed over him as her beautiful features lit with mirth. He desperately wished to be the one to spark the jollity that enhanced her already beautiful features. He wanted to be the one she placed her hand against to steady herself as she laughed so freely. He wanted so many things but would be forced to settle for nothing. He would be a fixture on the wall of her life, never noticeable but always there. He desperately wanted her but he would settle for observing her.

The class grew unusually quiet and with a start, Carlisle realized that a pair of warm hazel eyes was gazing back at him. She was critiquing him with an odd sort of look upon her face. Hope flamed to life within him. Dare he hope that she had taken note of his interests in his letter and was now _aware_ of him?

His heart sped up and his palms moistened as he struggled to hold her stare. She was actually looking at him this time and not through him as she had plenty of times before.

He could feel the passion flare into his chest and he gripped his desk to keep from crossing the room in quick strides and gathering her in his arms just to whisper to her words of his adoration for her.

With a pang, he watched as she averted her eyes, glancing quickly around the room. He followed her eyes and noticed that the room was unusually quiet because his class was seated and waiting for instructions.

Clearing his dry throat he said, "We will practice bandaging again class, please pick a partner."

On shaky legs he walked towards the supply cabinet, all the while wondering if his infatuation with Ms. Platt was now known to the entire class. He was sure it was, after all, how could they not see a drowning man dying of unrequited love.

How could they not see the love brimming in his eyes whenever he laid eyes on her? How could they not here the loud beat of his heart erratically flittering whenever he was able to catch her eye? How could they not know that he fell in love with the most beautiful, kindest woman in all of the world?

He reached in, grabbing the rolls of cloth for the day's lesson and suppressed a groan at the sight of the fabric.

There was nothing in his classroom that he could look at and not think of her. He remembered just the other day correcting her hands around the cloth. That day, he had really felt that she might have been _aware_ of him, all deities knew that he was aware of her.

Her scent, warm vanilla, caressed his senses. He was dizzy with her essence and was willingly falling into everything that was her. He was drowning and he knew it. And as similar to a willing drowning man he attached himself to her. He formed his ruff hands against her soft ones and smiled when a burst of spring breeze fluttered into the room blowing her hair into his face. It was a soft caress and Carlisle struggled with staying perfectly still.

Intimidation had never been an issue with him but the will to run away and hide from her perfection took over him. He was not worthy of looking upon her face, let alone holding her hands within his.

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply to clear his head.

He shouldn't dream of her in class, it was unprincipled. He closed the cabinet and returned back to his desk, placing the rolls on his desk.

"One roll per partner please." He choked out. He wondered how he had the strength to even say that and not announce to the whole class his intentions for the young Ms. Platt.

A few students gathered around his desk, waiting patiently for a roll of cloth. Carlisle caught the sound of a few side conversations. Laughter and cheer were evident in the class and he sighed silently, burrowing into his chair.

How could the world go on as if nothing had changed? How could people be so happy while he was suffering so horribly?

The line was slowly dwindling and it was now down to two students. Carlisle's nerves were on fire and he knew why. He hadn't had to look to know that she was now standing in front of his desk.

Carlisle gasped softly as she reached her hand out and touched the roll of fabric, his mind played as his devoted enemy as visions of his dreams of her flashed before his eyes.

She faltered in her movements, and Carlisle was a little nervous that she might have heard his small sign of weakness.

She cleared her throat, and his eyes shot up, instantly meeting hers. She looked befuddled and she opened her mouth as if to say something before she closed it again.

He encouraged her, chanting in his mind to finish what she had come to say. To please not leave him forever wondering what those sweet, soft lips wanted to tell him.

She shook her head, and Carlisle watched spellbound as a few tendrils fell out of her bun, framing her angelic features.

"Professor Cullen," She whispered. "I hope that it is not too late, but I would very much like to accept your offer for tea."

His heart flew. She desired to have tea with him? Could this mean that his feelings might have had bases after all? Could this mean that his feelings might have been returned? Could she possibly be entertaining similar thoughts as he?

He dare hope so!

"Of course Ms. Platt, I always have time for my students." Of course _Esme_ I will always have time for the love of my life.

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Yes!!! I updated! I'm sorry for the long wait you guys. This type of writing is very new to me and so many days I have sat in front of my computer thinking and planning but coming up with nothing but a horrid writer's block. Now I am on a roll and I feel as if I might type like this for the rest of the week. Ha!

Four more chapters are left, the next chapter will be Esme's preparation for the tea date and a surprise visitor, (*gasp*) that might have her second guessing her tea date!

Thank you for the lovely reviews. They made me happy and feeling the love! I feeling the love= Ms. Platt and Professor Cullen feeling the love. *hint hint* Review Please!


	3. A Walk in the Park

**You guys totally rock with the reviews.....for the first time my reviews actually match the people who favorite this story and put it on their alert list! Thank you for that! **

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**Tea with the Professor**

**Chapter Two: A Walk in the Park**

The sky was blue and the sun was bright, there was a slight chill in the air but still an immeasurable improvement from the cold dreary weather spring had offered thus far. It was a wonderful day for a serene walk in the park, and yet Esme was not allowed such tranquility.

Her blood pumped fire and her thoughts were cloudy with fine blond hair, intelligent steel grey eyes and warm bright smiles.

In her dreams his face haunted her. Taunted her. Her love for him was so strong but so young, she was afraid to call it anything other than infatuation, afraid of driving away such an exquisite fixation before she could begun to nurture it.

She knew that now, her feelings for him weren't just _passionate temptations_ _driving_ by unsuppressed need and lust; it was a _burly obsession_ that _fed _her need and lust.

Professor Cullen may never notice her, but her heart was and would forever be in his possession. Such a funny way to give her heart, no earning or diligent gestures, no pronouncements of husband and wife before God and church, no proclamations of devotedness and tomorrows spent together and cherished.

It was her ultimate demise really, falling in love with a man that would never be hers and was never hers to begin with.

Such shame she now wore, to be added to the many women whom swooned in his presence, for they had always disturbed her greatly. She would now walk beside them as an equal and as a sister in everything named heartbreak.

"I dare say Charles is acting very chivalrous today." It was her mother's voiced that pushed her out of her crazed passions.

"Indeed he is." Esme smiled, looking to the young man who played along with a few children from the neighborhood. He laughed and ran, his black coattails billowing out behind him.

"He looks as if he'd enjoy children."

"It appears as if he does." Esme murmured back respectively. "Children," she whispered quietly to herself.

She'd always longed for children. She could see them now, with their small cotton clad feet and their rosy cherub faces. Oh what joy would be felt, for her to look upon the face of a beautiful, enchanting child and find her own eyes gazing back at her, her own smile grinning back at her?

She watched as Charles grabbed one particular boy, the runt out of the group, and placed him upon his shoulders and continued to run.

"It appears he does," she whispered once more but this time in wonder. Something inside of her clicked. She had been longing after a man who would never love her back, but not only at the cost of her heart but at the cost of her kids! The kids she had always longed to have since almost forever.

What a farfetched fancy she had caught. It was alright for her to love and desire a man that feelings for her fell short of subtle acknowledgements, though her heart begged to differ, but how could it every be alright to throw away her dreams, dreams she'd had ever since she were a very young girl.

What kind of person would she be if she threw her carefully planned life away for a few innocent smiles and unavoidable touches?

Oh God! What had she been thinking? She'd made a horrible mistake. In her sight there was a vacant bench, Esme sat down on it, none too delicately.

It couldn't be undone, she thought frantically. She'd already accepted his invitation and it couldn't be undone. She was, for lack of better words……stuck.

Her mother sat next to her, her hand already placed on Esme's arm. "My God darling! Are you feeling quite well?"

No of course not, she thought, as she clasped her trembling hands together and hid them from her mother's view. "Just a bit faint, Mother." Esme recovered, which was not particularly a lie. "It's the spring weather. Too much fresh air." She laughed breathlessly, wondering when the weir would break, containing her alarm.

Her mother's cool hand touched her cheek. "You are a little warm darling and you have been looking a little flushed all day. I wondered about that, but briefly wrote it off to the look of a woman in love."

Esme's cheeks grew warmer as a deeper blush became visible across her face, of course her mother being who she was caught onto her actions just as quickly as they sprung. She looked towards Charles and back towards Esme, a smile appeared upon her delicate face, and since Esme knew her mother a little too well, she could just read the hint of disapproval behind her happy façade.

"Should I assume an addition?" She whispered.

_An addition_, what on earth could she mean by an….oh! Esme's head shot and she shook it quite violently. "Of course not Mother. I am dedicated to holding onto the virtues bestowed upon me by yourself and father. I shall not bring shame upon my father's name."

Her mother smiled and gently patted her arm. "Of course you wouldn't my darling. I'm ashamed such a thing would ever happen upon my mind."

She turned back to Charles, who was now being viciously attacked by the young children as he laughed. "Charles darling." She called.

Charles impeded his mischievous frolics with the children and walked towards his future mother in-law and bride to be, a concerned frown already marring his features. "Is everything alright?"

Her mother sighed sadly. "I'm afraid Esme needs her rest. We will have to defer our walk for another day I'm afraid. Do you mind seeing her home?"

"I would be honored."

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A/N: Anybody wanna Beta this story for me? PM me if so!

Another A/N: Okay you guys! I decided to split this chapter up because this part was finished anyway and since I am preparing for my finals I don't know when I'm going to get a chance to write the second half…..maybe this weekend but my birthday's Friday so I'm not sure.

In the second part we will get to see what Carlisle does in his spare time and his thoughts about Esme….and maybe a little Carlisle/Charles drama?

Teaser: Carlisle sat underneath the grand branches of a willow on campus. A book in his lap and his eyes trained on the red brick building that currently functioned as the girl's dormitory. His mind, as always, hadn't been working in his best interest when it brought him there to picnic with….. (who could it be? Gasp!)


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